


Breathless

by nh8343



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Near Drowning, Romance, Venezia | Venice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nh8343/pseuds/nh8343
Summary: Donghae pulls a drowning Hyukjae out of Venice's Grand Canal, and saves him in more ways than one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Cross-posted from AFF] Partly based off of my time in Europe this summer, and probably the best thing to come out of it.
> 
> Any of the Italian not explained in the story is just a bonus if you decide to plug it into a translator, not required to read (And please ignore my butchering of the language.) Italian/English are in italics & Korean isn’t, but it should be clear just from reading.

 

**Day 1 (Wednesday)**

 

The plane shakes as it touches down on the runway, jerking Hyukjae out of his half-conscious state. The girl he’s sitting next to finally pulls out her earbuds, temporarily filling their row with the sounds of some American rock band, and the rather obnoxious man in front of him finally puts his seat upright, giving Hyukjae a few more precious inches between the tray table and his face.

 

“ _We have now arrived in Lido_ ,” a voice says in English over the intercom. “ _Please keep your seatbelts buckled until we come to a full and complete stop_.”

 

Hyukjae’s really done it. He’s made it to Italy, even when no one was convinced that he would actually go. He himself will admit that he shared their sentiments, up until the moment he handed over his boarding pass and stepped onto the plane back in Incheon. This is a good sign: things are looking up for him.

 

(Not that it’s a very high bar after these last few months. Just about anything short of total disaster will be a step up from what he’s gotten used to.)

 

It doesn't take long for Hyukjae to wheel his suitcase to the nearby hotel and check in; he's already prepaid for a room here for the next few nights. Lido is an island just a short boat ride away from Venice, so having a temporary (and cheaper) residence here will give him some time to find an apartment on the mainland. He can ferry back and forth on a vaporetto, which he heads toward now, and if he can just find the stop at the end of this path...

 

_There. A lot smaller than I expected, but_ _it’ll work._

 

Hyukjae had also paid for this first ticket beforehand to avoid any problems, and he double-checks his pocket now to make sure he has his wallet with the ticket before he boards the boat. He expects someone to ask for it as he gets on, but there doesn't appear to be anyone aside from him and the eclectic group of other passengers.

 

The vaporetto takes off soon after Hyukjae settles into his spot. Most of the others choose to rest their feet in the enclosed seating area, but he stands outside at the edge of the railing, looking out over the water and feeling the wind whip through his hair. It's hypnotizing to watch the waves bobbing up and down alongside the boat, sparkling in the early morning sun.

 

The trance only lasts for so long. Hyukjae finds his peaceful state interrupted a few minutes into the journey, when an official-looking man taps him on the shoulder and asks in English if he can see his ticket.

 

Hyukjae's first reaction is relief at being able to understand what was said. Though it’s not his native tongue, Hyukjae had still been an English major at college (he’d wanted to write for an international audience), so he feels more than comfortable communicating. He pulls the ticket out of his wallet and gladly hands it over to be scanned by the man's contraption. Gladly, that is, until he sees the furrow that appears between the man’s eyebrows as he reads the display.

 

“ _You didn't validate your ticket, Sir,_ ” the man says firmly.

 

“ _Validate?_ ” Hyukjae blinks at him, trying to understand. “ _I bought it beforehand, and I just gave it to you now._ ”

 

The man shakes his head. “ _You have to validate it at the scanner before you get on board, or we legally have to fine you. You could have used that ticket any number of times before I checked it._ ”

 

“ _I just got here today! I haven't taken a vaporetto until–_ ”

 

“ _I'm sorry, Sir, but this is the last time I'll ask you politely to pay the fine. It's 60 euro for not validating a ticket._ ”

 

“ _Listen–_ ” Hyukjae continues to protest, but when he sees the man's hand hover over the walkie-talkie clipped on his belt, he shuts up. Instead, he gets out his wallet, thumbing through the bills and handing them over. He can’t tell if he's more embarrassed or angry.

 

The man leaves him with one last warning to always validate his ticket, and Hyukjae spends the rest of the ride with his eyes fixed on the horizon, avoiding eye contact with anyone else on board. He does his best to lose the memory to his wonder at seeing the mainland get closer and closer with every vaporetto stop.

 

By the time they reach Hyukjae’s stop and he sets foot on dry land, he's completely spellbound by the beauty of the scenery around him: the narrow, towering buildings, the winding streets, the feeling of being in an entirely different world...it's amazing. It's about as different from Korea as he could have imagined, a thought which brings him back to what he's doing here in the first place.

 

Hyukjae is starting over.

 

In his first few years out of college, he’d been sure that his life was a one-track road to success. His peers had scoffed at his unfailing optimism from the beginning, at his firm belief that he could do well if he only put in enough effort to get there.

 

Then there were his parents. They’d cursed at him from the day he’d decided he wanted to become an author, doing everything they could to stomp that future into the dust. Hyukjae wasn’t really leaving them behind when he left for Venice, because they’d all but disowned him when they realized he wasn’t going to be the ‘honorable’, money-grabbing son they’d envisioned.

 

But even though their casting-off had broken his heart, it still hadn’t crushed his dreams. It had taken more than that for Hyukjae to acquire the same cynicism as all those around him. It had taken the loss of his job that helped him scrape by while he wrote, the constant rejections by different publishers reminding him that he just wasn’t good enough, the people he’d thought were his friends turning their backs on him in his greatest time of need.

 

(That last one was after a separate incident, one that turned out to be the final straw, but Hyukjae…he’s still far from ready to come to terms with _that_.)

 

If he was just a better author, Hyukjae thinks, maybe things would have gone differently. Or maybe his luck is just rotten enough that he would have ended up here anyway: broke and trying to find meaning in his life again.

 

Hyukjae shakes his head to clear the thought, hiking his bag higher up on his shoulders and quickening his steps. He just needs to find a place to eat, and _then_ he can get around to dwelling on the past. An empty stomach isn’t exactly conducive to optimism.

 

He passes by three consecutive gelato stands tucked into the sides of the criss-crossed streets, sit-down restaurants that are far from being in his budget, pastas, pizzas, and paninis in every variety he’d be able to imagine, but nothing feels right. It’s not until he rounds another sharp corner that he finds what he’s looking for: the café in front of him is small enough that he doesn’t feel intimidated, but if the pictures framing the entrance are any indication, he’ll be eating well.

 

As he walks in, the woman at the counter greets him with a hearty “ _Buongiorno!_ ” and Hyukjae feels no small amount of guilt as he stumbles over his words to order.

 

“ _One…of those,_ ” he says in terribly accented Italian, pointing to one of the wrapped sandwiches in the glass display. “ _And one espresso, please_.”

 

“ _Molto bene. E 'questo per qui o andare?_ ”

 

Qui…? Hyukjae runs through his list of limited words, and it takes him a few seconds before he realizes what he’s being asked.

 

“ _For here, please_.”

 

He doesn’t even attempt to understand the number that she reads out as his total: Hyukjae has only had time to memorize Italian numbers up through three, not to mention that he’s already calculated the price from the labels (and he has to admit, eating for under 10 euro feels good, even when it’s all he can afford). He breaks a 50 euro note with the cashier, collects his late-morning brunch, and revels in the chance to sink back into one of the café chairs.

 

As Hyukjae sips his coffee, he thinks about all the places he still has to go, excitement renewed at the thought of visiting the _basilicas_ , the palace, the canals. It's all right here waiting for him. But speaking of right here...

 

_This can't be right._

 

He's taking a break from eating to slide the change into his wallet when his train of thought is suddenly derailed, because why is this the only change he got back? It doesn't add up.

 

Concern growing, Hyukjae scans down the unfamiliar words on his receipt, eyes stopping when he sees a total in numerals that he can thankfully read. But this total...this is at least three times more than he expected it to be, even a little more than that. Did he get ripped off on account of his Italian being that horrible?

 

He brings the receipt back up to the same woman at the register, asking slowly, “ _Excuse me, this...is this right?_ ”

 

She raises an eyebrow at him. “ _Si tratta di una tassa di servizio, proprio come ogni ristorante. Si paga se si mangia ai nostri tavoli._ ”

 

He's so incredibly unprepared for this conversation, it's almost funny. But as it stands, Hyukjae just feels horribly lost and incompetent.

 

“ _Sorry, what?_ ”

 

“ _Una tassa di servizio. Onestamente, turisti..._ ” When he looks just as lost as before, she switches to clipped, accented English. “ _You sit. You give money, yes?_ ”

 

There's a sign she's gesturing to on the wall. Underneath all of the Italian, Hyukjae can just make out the English translation of what she must be talking about: service fees. If he chooses to sit in the café, he has to pay different prices? Is he really just finding this out now, after he'd so confidently paid and taken a seat?

 

He almost wants to press the issue, no matter how positive he is that he can't win, but the woman is starting to look more than just mildly annoyed, so he simply nods and goes back to his seat. A feeling of humiliation hangs over Hyukjae's head, both because of the language barrier and because he was stupid enough to not pay close attention to his total. He quickly eats his meal and leaves, filing that memory in his ever-growing bin of things to forget entirely.

 

But Hyukjae doesn't want to give up on Venice just yet. It must be that he's getting all of his bad luck out of the way so he can have the time of his life.

 

_Right? I'm sure that's it._

 

He takes out his map and traces his fingers along the colored roads until he finds the one that will take him to Piazza San Marco. The day is still young, and he should see more of the 'fun' parts of the city that he'll probably be spending the next few years of his life in. It seems like the best place to start. Hyukjae follows the cobblestone paths toward the interior of the island and his destination.

 

When he rounds the final corner, he expects to find a quaint center of the town, with maybe one or two people and some pigeons. This piazza is exactly the opposite. A group of tourists nearly runs him over as they file behind their guide, and Hyukjae is swept into the chaos of a million and one people trying to be on their way.

 

Shopkeepers shout out their goods in his ears as he squeezes past the crowds, backpacks and handbags hitting him in rapid succession, and is he still even heading north? He can barely see the surrounding buildings over the top of so many heads, but the ledges to sit on and rest are filled with more tourists and—

 

“ _Scusi!_ ” an Italian woman says sharply to him as she elbows past, practically knocking the wind out of Hyukjae’s chest. He stumbles back into the crowded mass that pushes him forward, looking back down at his map for help, and…where is his map?

 

Hyukjae feels panic start to set in when he realizes he no longer has any idea where he is or where he’s going. The crowds now feel less annoying and more terrifying, suffocating him from every side as he tries to move.

 

_Let me out!_

 

He plants his feet in place, stepping on someone’s shoes, and with one great push forces himself out of the worst of the rush. Hyukjae’s practically sprinting by the time he’s free, running with no sense of direction to anywhere but here.

 

Countless streets and turns later, far past the point that Hyukjae remembers where he’s gone, it’s quiet. The overwhelming buzz that’s followed him through the city at last clears up enough for him to hear himself think. Covered boats float in the canal, skinny houses flank the narrow walkways, and finally, _finally_ Hyukjae is alone.

 

He collapses on the edge of the canal with weary feet, letting his legs dangle over the edge just above the water. They swing back and forth absently as he slips the bag off of his back, unzipping it to check that he hadn’t been robbed during the chaos. Water and snacks? Check. Wallet? Still in his pocket. Phone? Safe at the hotel. Map…

 

Damn it. Hyukjae nearly starts to cry at the thought of losing one of his most important possessions. Not only had it been his compass and means to pinpoint where he was, but it was the only place he’d traced routes to and from the mainland, all the way back to his hotel. An international data plan is too much for him to pay for at this point, and without any reliable Wi-Fi to make it worth bringing his phone along, Hyukjae has no way to look up directions.

 

_This was a terrible idea_ , he thinks to himself, hugging the backpack closer to his chest. _I thought I would be inspired by Venice; it was supposed to be one of the most beautiful places, but now…_

 

Not that it matters, does it? Hyukjae has no money and nowhere else to go. He’s trapped.

 

And now he just has to hope he can make it out of here in one piece.

 

~*~

 

When the sunset gives way to the rising moon, and Hyukjae has finally exhausted his capacity to wander the streets and look for enlightenment, he decides that it’s time to head back to Lido and his hotel.

 

Theoretically, he could head due east or west to eventually hit the coast, but knowing his luck today he’d end up walking across the entire island. Hyukjae just wants to get back as soon as he can before it gets any later. The novelty of getting lost in a new city is something he can save for another day.

 

It’s this desire that drives him to talk to the first person he passes after walking for some time back toward (what he assumes is) the center of the island and civilization, asking in simple Italian, “ _Where is…Academia? I want–_ ”

 

“ _I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian_ ,” the man says to him, and Hyukjae is two seconds away from moving on when he realizes he _understood_ what the man said. English. He quickly changes to match the other man’s language of choice.

 

“ _I can speak English, too,_ ” he says quickly. “ _Do you know the Academia stop? I need a vaporetto._ ”

 

The man gives him a sympathetic look. “ _They stop running vaporettos after 11:30. You'll have to stay here for the night and catch one tomorrow morning._ ”

 

“ _Thank you_ ,” Hyukjae tells the man before he goes on his way, but the calm tone of his words are the complete opposite of the slowly impending sense of doom he feels pressing on his shoulders.

 

There are no more vaporettos running. Hyukjae is trapped with nothing but 30 euro in cash, his near-empty backpack, and his wits. And the city is very quickly descending into total darkness. A fitting end to today.

 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to keep his panic contained. This is fine, he tries to tell himself. There should be at least one hotel cheap enough to stay in, and then he can make a fresh start in the morning. How hard can it be to find a place?

 

Five nearby hotels later, Hyukjae now knows the answer: _very_ hard.

 

There's no shortage of rooms; if money wasn't an issue, he would have more options than he could ever need. But that's just the problem, isn't it? He doesn't have money. Between the café and the vaporetto fiascos from earlier today, he doesn't have nearly enough cash with him to cover even a single night in this part of town. If Hyukjae doesn't want to end up sleeping on the streets, he needs to get to the outskirts.

 

He turns away from the fancy buildings that now seem to mock him, looks for the trail of steadily worsening infrastructure, and walks.

 

And walks.

 

The night breeze whispers against Hyukjae's neck as he goes, making him shiver. In the daylight, he thinks that all of this wouldn't look so sinister. The sharp buildings wouldn't look like uninviting spikes, the creaks of closing doors and windows wouldn't sound like he was being locked in, the hanging signs wouldn't seem like vengeful ghosts. Hyukjae may be thinking a little unreasonably, but the encroaching darkness isn't good for–

 

Wait. He's not imagining the sound of someone following behind him, is he?

 

Hyukjae stops walking and turns around, but there's no one there. Strange, he could have sworn that...

 

One more shiver runs down his back, not from the cold, and he can hear the distinct sound behind him of footsteps pounding on cobblestone. And without a second thought, Hyukjae runs.

 

_Oh god_ , he thinks in his desperate sprint to safety. _Someone is after me, they're going to try and kill me, they'll steal my wallet and slit my throat, if I had just gone home earlier..._

 

Fear and regret beat against his skull just as quickly as his feet fly over the street, sprinting down any alleyway he can find. At every turn, he nearly runs into the wall before he changes direction. It's not something Hyukjae can help; the sun is long gone, which means he can barely see two feet in front of his face, much less the approaching obstacles.

 

Hotel long forgotten, Hyukjae makes another wild turn to the right. He can't hear the sound of those other footsteps over the sound of his own heart pumping itself out of his chest, but he doesn't dare let a possible pursuer catch up. If he can manage to make it back to a lighted area–

 

Hyukjae's foot meets air on its next step, and he feels a sudden dropping sensation in his stomach before he's careening over the edge of an unseen gap, too startled to cry out. The surface of the water hits him like a slap before he's submerged entirely. It's inky black, freezing cold, and Hyukjae suddenly can't tell which way is up or down.

 

This shouldn't be happening. Every canal he'd walked by today had only been wide enough for a gondola to go through it; he should be able to see one of the sides to get out. But it's too dark to see which way he should swim, this hellish blackness so different than the jade waters the city prides itself on. And Hyukjae's lungs are starting to scream for oxygen.

 

_Someone help me!_ Hyukjae can only think. He doesn't dare open his mouth to yell for fear of swallowing water. _I don't want to die like this!_

 

He thrashes his limbs in an attempt to propel himself in some arbitrary direction, but Hyukjae has never been a very good swimmer. He only accomplishes shaking the straps of his backpack from his shoulders, leaving it to sink somewhere into the depths. The hopelessness of getting out nearly chokes him up more than the lack of oxygen does.

 

_Please, you have to...have to help me..._

 

Hyukjae's vision is blurry around the edges. He tries his hardest to keep his mouth clamped tightly shut, but instinct betrays him. In an instant, black water floods his lungs, and he chokes without reprieve, unable to catch his breath.

 

Was this supposed to be the poetic end for him, then? A failed author drowned in a canal after midnight with no one to care that he was gone?

 

Something winds tightly around Hyukjae's chest, and with one great heave he feels his body being yanked up out of the water. In seconds, he goes from hopelessly drowning to being dragged onto some sort of boat, hacking up canal water and finally (mostly) able to breathe.

 

There's someone there helping him. A hand hits him between the shoulder blades a few times in succession, expelling more water from his aching lungs, though the stranger's words are lost in the night. Hyukjae is too shaken by his close brush with death to have them do anything more than go in one ear and out the other.

 

When he finally stops coughing, that's when the cold kicks in. Hyukjae can't help the shivers that run through his body, heightened by the canal-soaked clothes clinging to his body. A jacket is placed over his shoulders, and he's reminded: the stranger.

 

Hyukjae turns around and finds his savior illuminated by lantern light, looking right back at him. He's a young man, with dark locks falling just above darker eyes, and even in the dim lighting Hyukjae can tell he's handsome.

 

“Thank you so much,” Hyukjae tells him earnestly, and that's as far as he gets before he catches the slip back into his mother tongue. It's a stupid reason for a stupid mistake, too, because isn’t it just instinct from the stranger looking like he'd fit right in back home?

 

Hyukjae goes to apologize, but the stranger is looking at him curiously.

 

“You speak Korean?” he asks, and the sound of the familiar language is like music to Hyukjae's ears.

 

“Yes. Sorry, I didn't mean to assume you did, too; I was just, um...distracted by how I'm not dead? Counting my lucky stars? Something like that.”

 

It's hard to stop himself from rambling when he's just so happy for someone to understand him again, but his worries about oversharing amount to nothing. The stranger humors him with an easy smile.

 

“Luckily for you, it's something we have in common. I'm just glad you're alive and well enough to say anything.”

 

There's a genuine kindness in the words that touches Hyukjae even through his violent bouts of shivering.

 

“I'm Donghae, by the way,” the stranger introduces himself, holding out a hand for Hyukjae to shake.

 

“Hyukjae.”

 

The hand that briefly curls around his is warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the canal water it had been flailing at only a minute ago. But the warmest thing about Donghae isn't his hands (or his jacket, for the matter); it's his smile. It's the only thing keeping Hyukjae from feeling both like a complete idiot and terrified that this day could have been his last.

 

“Hyukjae, huh? Nice to meet you, even if it's under circumstances like these. I won't ask how you ended up falling in the canal, but do try to keep it from happening again, alright? I might not be here to rescue you.”

 

Hyukjae gives him a weak smile in return. “I don't think it will be a problem. One time was more than enough for me.”

 

“Glad to hear it.” Donghae gives him another look, considering, before he continues. “Well, as much as I've enjoyed our brief time together, I have to get home and rest for my shift tomorrow morning. Is there somewhere you're staying that I can take you to? Might as well take advantage of getting rescued by a gondolier.”

 

And, really, Hyukjae can't believe that he's only now noticing the boat that he's been rocking in this whole time, long and narrow with both ends coming together in pointed tips. That would certainly explain Donghae's striped attire, along with why he'd be out here in the first place.

 

( _Shouldn't his shift have been over ages ago?_ Hyukjae thinks as an afterthought, but somehow he's guessing it's best not to pry. Donghae can get away with however much unauthorized rowing as he wants if it means he was able to pull Hyukjae to safety.)

 

He gets lost in the realization long enough for Donghae to give him a _look_ , and that's when Hyukjae remembers he's been asked a question. Thankfully, the lantern is far too dim to reveal his face flushing with embarrassment.

 

“Oh, right, where I'm staying. Um...”

 

If he was smart, he would admit the truth: that he has nowhere to go. He would ask Donghae where he should stay overnight, gladly follow his advice, and then take the vaporetto back to Lido in the morning without sleeping out in the cold.

 

“If you drop me off around San Marco, I'll be able to make my way back. I really appreciate it.”

 

Hyukjae isn't stupid, but he has his pride. Looking like some blockhead who wandered into the canal in the dark is still better than looking like some homeless, broke blockhead who did the same thing. Having to explain how he ended up in this situation sounds like about the worst thing he could do besides throwing himself back off the gondola.

 

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

Donghae gives him another one of those warm smiles, and for the rest of the trip Hyukjae allows himself to forget about the corner he's backed himself into. He fills his mind with nothing but the stories Donghae tells as he rows the gondola toward their destination, focuses on nothing but the moon's reflection across the surface of the water. It's harder than he expects to say goodbye when it's over.

 

“Here's San Marco,” Donghae tells him, looping a rope around one of the dock posts. “Just as promised. Make sure you change out of those clothes as soon as you can; there's nothing more miserable than having to walk around such a beautiful city sneezing your lungs out from a cold.”

 

_Trust me, that would be the least of my problems_ , Hyukjae thinks, but the concern is touching. And there's something magical about a quiet gondola ride after midnight, a kind of feeling that doesn't leave him even when he takes a teetering step onto dry land.

 

“Thank you, Donghae. I really mean it. If you hadn't been there...”

 

“No, don't mention it. We've all had our share of bad luck; I was happy to help with yours.” Donghae's teeth flash when he grins. “As comfortable as it is, though, I _am_ going to need my jacket back.”

 

For the second time that night, Hyukjae's face flames. He hands the soggy garment back with no small amount of embarrassment.

 

“Thanks for that. Oh, and Hyukjae?”

 

Hyukjae looks at him expectantly.

 

“ _Hai dei bellissimi occhi_.”

 

The Italian is unexpected, and it leaves him blinking his eyes in complete incomprehension.

 

“Sorry, what was that?”

 

Donghae laughs, shaking his head. “It's nothing. Keep practicing your Italian, alright? I'll see you around.”

 

And in all honestly, Hyukjae really, _really_ hopes he will.

 

~*~

 

When Donghae's gondola is long gone, and Hyukjae is back in the solitude of his own thoughts, the dream of earlier that night fades into cold reality: he has no place to stay. It's with a heavy heart that he walks through the deserted streets and finds an out-of-the-way corner that he can rest his weary body.

 

The cobblestone is cold and uncomfortable, the musty smell is just as bad as his damp clothes, and there are spiders in the corner. But it's _something_. Hyukjae is just grateful he doesn't have to forsake sleep entirely and spend the entire night wandering around.

 

(He's even more grateful later that night, just as he's falling asleep, that his chosen corner has an awning above it that protrudes a few feet from the wall. Because the rain comes down with a vengeance, and he's thankfully kept just out of its reach. A small mercy at the end of a terrible day.)

 

Hyukjae thinks of his one shining moment in the city, holding the memory of the gondola ride close to his heart, and finally drifts off.

 

~*~

 

**Day 2 (Thursday)**

 

By some miracle, Hyukjae makes it through the night without getting robbed or freezing to death. He takes the first vaporetto back to Lido (remembering to validate his ticket this time), and finally gets the chance to change out of his canal-soaked clothes and regroup.

 

_Today is a new day_ , he tells himself as he heads out once again for mainland Venice. _I'm going to find a job, just like I planned, and then once I have a salary I can figure out my next steps._

 

It's a brilliant idea in theory, but it hinges on one unfortunate circumstance: Hyukjae actually has to get hired.

 

There's not exactly a booming market for amateur authors, so Hyukjae does his best to find something that he's at least okay at doing. In an ideal world, he'd be able to work a day job just long enough to magically get his inspiration back, and then have his new breakout author status carry him to success. He makes a list of things he's not terrible at, looks up places that are currently hiring, and sets off on his quest.

 

His first set of results are...disappointing, to say the least. The hotel hiring new reception staff is unimpressed by his resume (“We're looking for someone with more experience.”), the upscale authentic restaurant hiring servers doesn’t think he’s a great fit (“We're looking for someone more...Italian.”), and the beauty shop wanting to hire a new cashier doesn't even try to give him a reason why (“We're...actually no longer hiring. Sorry.”).

 

Hyukjae's search seems to grow more and more futile as he moves down the list, striking out each failure with an increasingly angry line of ink. It's eerily similar to his long, unsuccessful hunt for a publisher, only more frustrating for one simple fact: it shouldn't be this hard to find a job. At this point, Hyukjae will take just about anything.

 

Swallowing the taste of defeat and straightening his shoulders, he walks into the last establishment on his list: _St. J's Café_. The outside isn't the most impressive sight, but the interior is quaint and homey, every detail of the decoration seeming to be carefully thought out down to the different shades of blue – it's surprising to see only one customer sitting at the tables.

 

There's a man standing behind the counter examining a stack of receipts. Hyukjae makes a beeline toward him, and is greeted with a polite smile as he approaches.

 

“ _Buongiorno, posso aiutarti?_ ”

 

Italian. Right. Hyukjae can do this; he's practiced.

 

“ _Hi, I'm here for the job offer. I'd like the position._ ”

 

“ _Sei un cuoco?_ ”

 

Is he a...? Hyukjae thought the position was for a server, not a cook. His cooking abilities are subpar at best, disastrous as their worst. But this job...he needs it. Hyukjae crosses his fingers and lies to the man's face.

 

“ _Yes, I'm a cook._ ”

 

The man looks him over skeptically before he continues, “ _E qual'è il tuo nome?_ ”

 

“ _L– Umm, Hyukjae Lee._ ” It's still awkward to say his name backwards.

 

“ _Hyukjae_ ?” The man narrows his eyes. “ _Non si dispone di un nome diverso? Una inglese? Italiano?_ ”

 

The question isn't one Hyukjae practiced for. “ _Umm?_ ”

 

With a sigh, the man switches languages, and Hyukjae thinks that maybe the universe _is_ looking out for him in some twisted way, because what are the chances that an achingly familiar language would come out of the man's mouth?

 

“I asked if you had a different name besides your Korean one, but I guess you answered that question. This better?”

 

“Much,” Hyukjae admits rather sheepishly. “Sorry, I haven't been here long enough to be any good at Italian.”

 

The look the man is giving him is definitely unimpressed, but at least it's not angry. “Well, you managed to find one of the only Korean-run restaurants in the city, so congratulations. As long as you do your job and cook what you're told, I honestly don't care how horrible your Italian is. You're serious about taking the position?”

 

“Completely serious. I can start working today, if you'll let me.”

 

Another critical look, one that has Hyukjae feeling oddly exposed, and the man relents with a deep sigh. “I suppose I'd better introduce myself then. I'm Sungmin; welcome to _St. J's._ I handle the customers, but you'll be reporting to Siwon, our head chef. Shifts are from 10am to 6pm every weekday, you'll get paid in cash at the end of every week, and try not to screw up too badly or we'll have to fire you. Any questions?”

 

It's a rather...abrupt hiring process. Hyukjae wonders if the café is desperate for workers or just expects him to get fired quickly enough to not be a significant financial investment. Still, he can't complain.

 

“No questions,” he says, and after a beat of silence, “Should I just...head back to the kitchen?”

 

“It's after 10, isn't it?” Sungmin doesn't even look up when he asks. “Talk to Siwon and then get to work. He speaks Korean, too.”

 

Hyukjae tries not to feel too slighted by the other man's attitude. It's not something he said, is it? Maybe he just caught Sungmin on an off-day. With one last goodbye (one that's mostly ignored), he slips through the door on the back wall and into the kitchen.

 

A host of different smells hit his nostrils as he enters, each more delicious than the last. Hyukjae hasn't been around home cooking for what seems like ages, but this takes him back to simpler times. He's so wrapped up in taking it all in that he nearly misses the question that gets thrown his way.

 

“ _Tu chi sei?_ ”

 

The man who's asking is tall, buff, and imposing, the apron tied around his waist doing nothing to take away from the feeling that he's about to throw Hyukjae clear out of the kitchen. Before that can happen, Hyukjae quickly introduces himself.

 

“I'm Lee Hyukjae,” he says, noticing how the man's eyebrows raise at his language choice. “The new cook. Sungmin asked me to speak to Siwon?”

 

The man gives him a slightly less judgmental once-over than the one he'd just received outside.

 

“In that case, nice to meet you. I'm Siwon, but I'm guessing you figured that out since there's no one else back here.”

 

Now that Siwon mentions it, the kitchen _is_ empty of the staff Hyukjae expected to see. Surely, this can't be it.

 

“Are you and Sungmin the only other two employees?”

 

There's something like bitterness in Siwon's expression. “During the week, yes. Sungmin's friend comes to work on weekends, but otherwise the only position remaining is the one you've taken over – one that's been left vacant on more than one occasion.”

 

Hyukjae's not quite sure what to say to that.

 

“I'm glad I could help, then.”

 

“How long are you staying?” Siwon asks him abruptly. “A few days? A week?”

 

“What?” Hyukjae's not sure he understands why the hostile tone is being thrown his way.

 

“Don't answer that. Here, take this.” An apron is tossed in Hyukjae's direction, the same deep blue as the restaurant's interior. “We'll be hitting the afternoon rush soon. Start cooking the risotto; it's our most popular dish.”

 

“Umm, of course...risotto...”

 

“Please tell me you have some cooking experience.”

 

“Of course I do,” Hyukjae half-lies. “Just not _Italian_ cooking experience. I've only been here for a day.”

 

Siwon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and Hyukjae is nearly compelled to take a giant step backward at the barely-contained frustration.

 

“There's a cookbook in one of the cabinets. It shouldn't be hard to follow, and you can ask me questions if you absolutely have to. That sound okay to you?”

 

The immediate “Absolutely” that Hyukjae gives him is a bit pitiful.

 

Siwon goes to set up at his workstation, leaving Hyukjae to fend for himself with nothing but his wits and a musty cookbook. It's not the worst situation: one look at the risotto recipe makes it out not to be too difficult of a dish (which, considering Hyukjae's level of skill, is probably more of a blessing than Siwon realizes).

 

He’s halfway through ladling in the chicken stock when disaster strikes. An unexpected fried smell hits his nostrils, and one look at the underside of the rice mixture reveals a blackened, charred film that's forming on the bottom.

 

_This is...probably salvageable?_

 

Hyukjae turns down the heat and folds the charred rice into the rest of the risotto, mentally crossing his fingers as he adds another ladle of chicken stock. With any luck, the burnt film on the rice should just...no, it's definitely still there, along with the new charring on the rice that's been pushed to the bottom, and what is he supposed to–?

 

“What did you _do_?”

 

Hyukjae nearly drops his ladle at the sound of Siwon's voice so close to his personal space.

 

“Sorry, the rice started to burn so–”

 

“Have you been continuously stirring it every time you add liquid ingredients?” Hyukjae flinches away from the nearly-palpable wrath. “The number one rule of making risotto?”

 

“No, but–”

 

Siwon thrusts his finger at a line printed just below the set of cooking instructions, looking Hyukjae dead in the eyes despite how much the latter tries to avoid his admonishing gaze.

 

“ _It's important to stir constantly,_ ” Siwon reads without looking at the page, “ _Particularly as the liquid gets absorbed, to prevent scorching of the rice mixture._ ”

 

“I'm sorry; I didn't know.”

 

“Sorry doesn't bring back a botched cooking job, does it? Scrap this mess and start over, and this time make sure you _stir_. I'll watch you do it.”

 

Hyukjae feels like the scum of the earth as he scrapes the bowl's contents into the trash, watching his hard work dissolve into a sticky, burnt conglomeration of failure. The depth of his own shame for messing up in the first place is bad enough. But now he can feel Siwon's sharp eyes trained on him as he tries for the second time, an intense scrutiny that makes his hand shake as it holds the ladle. It's no silent critique, either; now that the other man has judged Hyukjae's cooking skills to be sorely lacking, he takes every opportunity to point out the flaws in his technique. It's taking away from Siwon's own time that he could be preparing more food, Hyukjae knows, which weighs heavily on his shoulders. The last thing Hyukjae wants to be is a burden.

 

_Stellar job at starting over, Hyukjae. Just stellar._

 

Around 5:30 that evening, past the point that Hyukjae feels like he'll ever be able to feel more like a disappointment, Siwon brings his struggling cooking attempts to a stop.

 

“We can start wrapping up now,” he says, not sparing Hyukjae another glance. “Customers don't come this close to closing time, so no use in staying open.”

 

Hyukjae just nods and keeps his eyes trained on the floor.

 

“Would you prefer cleaning the dishes or the floor?”

 

The change from talking at him to asking a question, however, draws Hyukjae's gaze back up to the other man’s face. He actually has a choice, after the mess he's made of trying to help? And another thing: Siwon's expression isn't nearly as cold as his words. Some part of Hyukjae knows that his attitude isn't a personal vendetta; it's protectiveness over the restaurant. And yet...

 

“I'll do it all,” Hyukjae says, making a split-second decision. When Siwon's eyebrows raise, his expression losing some of its stoniness, it almost feels like he's made the right call.

 

“You sure about this?”

 

“It's the least I can do.”

 

_Maybe it will help me stop feeling like I've ruined everything_.

 

This time when Siwon looks him over, it's with consideration. “Alright,” he agrees with a nod. “I'll tell Sungmin; he'll leave one set of keys behind the register, so lock up when you're finished.”

 

Hyukjae weakly agrees, and once Siwon leaves him to his own devices, he slumps against the counter, clenching his fists.

 

_Keep it together, Hyukjae. Once you clean this kitchen, you can go home._

 

He takes a deep breath, rolls his sleeves further up his arms, and he begins. The sound of the sink running is the only noise in the room, save for the occasional _clink_ of pots and pans as he adds them to the stack of sitting dishes. Hyukjae allows himself no distractions as he dutifully wipes down the countertops and scrubs the remaining chunks from utensils. For nearly an hour, he works.

 

When it's all said and done, Hyukjae looks around the clean kitchen, examining his work. He wordlessly unties and folds his apron, placing it in the drawer Siwon had pulled it from. He sinks to the tiled floor, drawing his knees close to his chest.

 

And he cries.

 

All the misfortune and alienation from the past two days finally overwhelms him, and Hyukjae lets it out in ugly sobs. His shoulders shake with the effort, a picture of misery against the kitchen's stark backdrop.

 

What has he done wrong? The question repeats itself with every heartbeat, and Hyukjae struggles for an answer. The arms he's wrapped around himself dig nails sharply into his skin. If he can rip out the part of himself that's made people hate him so much, he wonders for a fleeting moment, can he stop suffering? He doesn't just mean his time here in Venice; before that, there must be something that had made him an easy target, something that made him unlikable enough to stab in the back. Something that would make her–

 

_Stop it. Don't do this to yourself_.

 

Somewhere in the midst of his breakdown, Hyukjae finds his voice of reason.

 

_Give the city a chance. It's only been two days, hasn't it? You've believed for so long that you can achieve anything if you put in the hard work, so what's the problem with believing that now?_

 

There's a hint of nostalgia in the thought. Hyukjae gave up on that sort of optimism a while ago, but he needs _something_ to hold onto. If he can't imagine a happy ending, he doesn't know how he'll go on. It's more this desperation than true belief that makes him grasp at the strings of his old ideals.

 

Do his best, hope for a happy ending. Hyukjae doesn't know how much faith he can put in the plan, but it's a start.

 

_Then I'd better start now._

 

When Hyukjae's sobbing fades into watery eyes and quiet sniffles, he turns off all the lights and locks up the café. The evening breeze makes him shiver beneath his jacket, and by all accounts it would make sense for him to take the quickest route to the vaporetto home, but...there's one place Hyukjae is drawn to.

 

His steps carry him to the spot on the docks a certain someone had mentioned to him yesterday, a detail he remembers just as crisply as all the others from last night. The pace of his steps quicken at the thought of once again finding that same similar silver lining.

 

Donghae's not there.

 

Maybe he's out for tonight, maybe he's sick, maybe a million other things, but Hyukjae is still on his own. In any other circumstance, he would think the acute sadness from Donghae's absence was rather ridiculous. They don't know each other that well, despite their immediate connection on the gondola ride. Donghae is the great unknown. But maybe that's what draws Hyukjae to him: an indescribable feeling of escape. That, or just the fact that someone was finally, genuinely nice to him.

 

Not that it matters now. Hyukjae takes the vaporetto back to Lido and hopes the redness around his eyes isn't pronounced enough to notice. No one spares him a second glance; he's not sure if that makes him feel better or just more alone.

 

A horrible end to a horrible day.

 

~*~

 

**Day 3 (Friday)**

 

Hyukjae is going to get his shit together.

 

The thought takes hold of him from the second he opens his eyes, and it refuses to leave him alone. He's done with moping, Hyukjae decides; it's time to take back the reigns on his life once again.

 

With his hotel stay coming to an end unless he chooses to extend it, Hyukjae uses his cash reserves to instead make a down payment on an apartment on the mainland. The little place isn't in the best part of town, but considering his money troubles, the locale will keep the rent low and stop him from having to buy vaporetto tickets every day to commute in for work. As long as he makes sure to get back at a reasonable hour, the landlord has assured him that he'll be as safe as anywhere else in Venice.

 

(It also happens to be fairly close to where Donghae works, which Hyukjae hasn’t done on purpose, but it makes him smile at the coincidence.)

 

Rent payments are monthly, and by Hyukjae’s calculations, the money he makes from _St. J's_ should be just enough to cover rent and grocery costs. Living paycheck by paycheck isn't an ideal situation, but he could do much worse than a source of income and a place to call his own. Hyukjae is going to make Venice his _._

 

The burst of resolve that carries him through the morning fizzles out considerably throughout the work day. Sungmin and Siwon still aren't _mean_ to him, per say, but their passive-aggressive attitudes put a damper on Hyukjae's hard work. He's doing his best to pick up everything that he needs to know to be a chef, but the other two don't seem to think it's fast enough.

 

Fortunately, today isn't like his first day on the job. Today Hyukjae has something to focus on when he's snapped at for overcooking the potatoes: after his shift is done, he's going to find Donghae and go on that well-deserved gondola ride.

 

Maybe it seems hypocritical to be spending what's sure to be a lot of money on something that could be considered a luxury. Hyukjae has considered it, especially when counting out the dwindling reserve of his remaining extra funds. But this isn't about what is and isn't necessary; after what he's been going through the past month, Hyukjae thinks he deserves some happiness.

 

When the workday wraps up and Siwon lets him go, Hyukjae is out of _St. J's_ in a heartbeat. A cool, evening breeze whispers down the cobblestone streets as he heads toward his destination. There's a nagging thought in the back of Hyukjae's mind, one that wonders if the gondolier will be gone (or worse, had lied about the location), but luck has to be on his side one of these days, doesn't it?

 

The docks are much quieter than they are at midday. Water laps against the sides of anchored boats, and a few handfuls of tourists shuffle past, but otherwise it's relatively tame. Hyukjae _does_ admittedly side-eye the Grand Canal as he walks near the edge. In another city, the memory of the other night would have made him irrevocably afraid of the water, but the sheer number of canals here forces him to move past that fear. Which he's grateful for, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to stand within 50 feet of a gondola again, much less ride in one.

 

As Hyukjae walks, his eyes scan the row of boats. Most of them have a gondolier standing by, each one dressed in that same striped shirt, but none of them are the man he's looking for. If he just walks a bit further, maybe...

 

_Donghae._

 

The target of Hyukjae's search is knelt on the dock, tightening the knot on a rope wound around one of the piers. At least, Hyukjae is almost certain it's him. He's not sure how to approach without entirely making a fool of himself if he's wrong, but fortunately he manages to catch the other man's eye, seeing a spark of recognition light up his face.

 

“Hey!” Donghae calls to him, motioning him closer. “I didn't think I was going to see you again. Hyukjae, wasn't it?”

 

“That's me. And you didn't even have to fish me out of the canal this time.”

 

Hyukjae's not sure where the sudden joke comes from, but it gets him a laugh from Donghae, smile remaining on the gondolier's face as he stands and gives Hyukjae his full attention.

 

“So, Hyukjae, since you don't need a rescue, how can I help you today?”

 

“I was, um, actually hoping to go on a ride. But I don't know how much it is, or if I pay you, or if I need to book in advance? Sorry, I didn’t think this out very–”

 

“There's no need to be nervous,” Donghae cuts him off. His words are light, but that same kindness Hyukjae had seen before is still there. “Our company does bookings, but most people just come and ask the gondoliers directly. A standard 40 minute ride is 80 euro.”

 

Hyukjae gulps at the price.

 

“But...” Donghae continues, giving him a considering look. “Just for you, I could do a 30 minute ride for 60 euro. I've been known to take a wrong turn and have to go the long way back. And since it's a light day, you'll get to have a gondola all to yourself – minus your trusty gondolier, of course. How about it?”

 

Hyukjae had known it would be a lot, but he hadn't known it would be _this_ much. One ride would dry up the rest of his extra funds and leave him without a safety net. But he feels like he has no choice besides agreeing to the trip, especially when Donghae is offering him such a discount.

 

“Sure,” he says before he can second-guess himself. “Let me just...”

 

He gets his wallet out of his pocket, and while he's thumbing through the bills, he hears another man's gruff voice say something in Italian.

 

“ _Hai un fidanzato ora?_ ”

 

For a brief moment of panic, Hyukjae thinks the man is talking to him, but then Donghae snorts and shoots back, “ _Zitto, Matteo, sei solo geloso che lui è carino_.” and he relaxes again.

 

“Don't mind Matteo,” Donghae tells Hyukjae as he gratefully takes the cash from him. “He always likes to give me a hard time before I take off; it's nothing against you.”

 

_I would probably appreciate it more if I understood what he said in the first place, but thank you._

 

He really means it, too. There's nothing like feeling as though people are laughing at you behind your back, nothing like feeling excluded. Hyukjae knows both of those feelings all too well.

 

Donghae steps into the boat first. He helps Hyukjae step on behind him, who wobbles but manages not to fall into the canal again, and then goes to untie the knot he'd been working on so attentively before Hyukjae showed up.

 

Hyukjae allows himself one more moment of sadness, one last thought of this being his last ride, before he puts it aside. Nothing is going to come between him and making the most of this opportunity.

 

The beginning of the trip is mostly silent as they start to row out. Hyukjae can't take his eyes away from how pretty the water is just over the side of the boat, glittering jade in the late afternoon sun.

 

It's not long, however, before he feels like it might be _too_ quiet. With no other passengers on board, he’d taken the seat facing Donghae, and the boat is small enough that he's not far from where the other man is standing to row. It almost seems impolite to not start up a conversation.

 

“So, how long have you been doing this?” Hyukjae asks, genuinely curious.

 

“The gondola business? Nearly my whole life. There was a time when I was...well, let's say I was in a bad place, but Matteo brought me to the boss and trained me on how to be a gondolier. It gave me a way to get by, and it wasn't long before I fell in love with the job. I don't think I'd choose to do anything else.”

 

Donghae's voice provides a pleasant ambiance as Hyukjae takes in the sight of the city. It's beautiful: the buildings look a hundred times more beautiful from the water when he's given time to really look, instead of being pushed along by the crowds. He can see why Donghae loves his job; he doesn't think he could ever get sick of the view.

 

When Hyukjae turns back, he catches Donghae staring at him.

 

“Is there, um...something wrong with my face?” For whatever reason, he's more flustered than he should be.

 

Donghae smiles at him, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. It's just nice to see someone looking at the city with wonder in their eyes again. All too often I see tourists so caught up with wanting to be 'impressed' that they forget to appreciate the small things, or people who have lived here for so long that they take it for granted.”

 

Hyukjae hesitates before asking, “And you?”

 

“Me?” Donghae is silent for a time, mulling over the question as he continues rowing. When he answers, it's not what Hyukjae expects.

 

“Venice is sinking. A lot of people seem to ignore that, but it won't be too many more generations before it's gone. All the history, all the memories, all the beauty...it won't last forever. I do my best to keep the same wonder I see in you so that I can...”

 

“...so that you can appreciate it for as long as it lasts.”

 

The expression on Donghae's face loses some of its sadness, focusing on Hyukjae once again. “Exactly. And it's not just the city, you know. I try to live with the philosophy of enjoying beautiful things while you have them. If you think of everything as temporary, you appreciate it that much more.”

 

Hyukjae finds himself staring, and when Donghae laughs softly, saying, “You must think I'm being really cheesy,” he finds himself immediately objecting.

 

“The opposite, actually. It's a nice thought...I think I'll try it out.”

 

Maybe it's Hyukjae's imagination making him see things when Donghae's face seems to brighten considerably at the words, but he likes to think it isn't just a trick of the sunlight.

 

The rest of the ride continues in much the same way: beautiful sights, easy conversations where Hyukjae finds himself hanging on to every word, and more of a wonderful time than he could have imagined. Hyukjae learns some more things about the gondolier, but he also talks about himself. It's nice finally being able to do that with someone who doesn't know about his past, about the lies that had smeared and broken his reputation. He feels free.

 

By the time they get back to where they began, it's starting to get dark outside. Not that Hyukjae is too surprised; after Donghae _did_ manage to take a wrong turn in one of the canals, he suspects they were out for quite a bit longer than 30 minutes.

 

With expert ease, Donghae anchors the gondola to its pier, and Hyukjae hates to get out but does it regardless, accepting the other man's hand to help him onto shore. It's like crossing from one realm to another, almost, the moment that his feet hit the dock. There's a strange aching in Hyukjae's gut that won't go away.

 

“Thanks for the ride,” he tells Donghae, finding it hard to express in words how much it meant to him. “I really...it was really nice.”

 

“My pleasure. Maybe I'll see you again for another ride sometime?”

 

_I wish I was even close to being able to make that promise._

 

“Of course,” Hyukjae says anyway, wanting more than anything for it to be true.

 

“Then I guess this isn't really goodbye.” Donghae gives him one last smile before he kneels, going back to working on the knot tied around the pier. “Have a good rest of the night, Hyukjae.”

 

Hyukjae parts ways from the gondolier with memories that he can't forget, along with a new, cemented resolve: this won't be the last time.

 

Riding with Donghae these two nights has been the only time he’s felt a spark of inspiration start to form. And isn't getting his inspiration back the whole reason Hyukjae came to Venice? He needs to pursue that no matter the cost. He'll strictly budget himself, work hard, and come back again when he can.

 

There's something stirring in the back of Hyukjae's mind, some piece of himself that he'd thought was lost. He refuses to let that slip away.

 

It's a risk going back when it's rapidly getting darker outside, but Hyukjae makes it back to his apartment without any complications. He falls back onto his bed, studying the watermarks on his ceiling, and thinks that maybe, _finally_ , things are starting to turn around.

 

~*~

 

**Day 10 (Friday)**

 

A week passes, and still Hyukjae doesn't let his goal slip from his mind. The routine of his day becomes a pattern molded to getting back to the heart of his inspiration: wake up, get ready, work hard, return before it's dark, try his best to write, sleep. The 'writing' part of the schedule has turned out to be more of a roadblock than Hyukjae expected, but he'll get there.

 

Hopefully.

 

Work at _St. J's_ isn't nearly as miserable as it was during his first few days on the job. Through much trial and even more error, Hyukjae has gotten better at making nearly every dish on the menu. Siwon may have been harsh on him for making rookie mistakes, but the corrections have admittedly helped him improve rapidly in a short span of time. The other man has started acting less cold to him as a result; it's a more than welcome change.

 

Hyukjae is halfway through plating a freshly-made pasta dish when Sungmin bursts unceremoniously into the kitchen.

 

“There's a tour group,” Sungmin tells them between breaths, obviously panicking. “A huge tour group that just sat down and took up about four tables. I started trying to serve them, but they don't speak any Italian. Just English. So much English.”

 

“You're sure they don't speak any Italian at all?” Siwon asks him.

 

“I think I would have _noticed_ , thank you,” Sungmin says, sharp enough that Siwon raises an eyebrow. “There was zero understanding when I started talking. I don't have to tell you how important it is that we serve them; this is our first large group in months, and we need good reviews spread by word of mouth.”

 

“You could always call Kyuhyun in for extra help.”

 

“He's even worse than me at English!”

 

It's clearly a two-way conversation, but Hyukjae can't help but speak up.

 

“Umm, sorry to interrupt, but...maybe I can help?”

 

Sungmin gives him a look, one that screams 'you can't be serious'. “How?” he asks.

 

“I'm an English major, since...well it's not important why, but my English is decent. Maybe I could take their orders if there's an issue with communicating?”

 

Sungmin and Siwon exchange a look, holding a silent conversation.

 

“Alright, Hyukjae,” Sungmin finally relents. “You can wait the tables.”

 

He places a notepad and pen in Hyukjae's hand before continuing. “Write down their orders and break it up by how they want to split the bill; that will help us avoid disaster later. As long as you smile and get the order right, not much can go wrong. Understand?”

 

“...Yes?”

 

_What have you gotten yourself into this time, Hyukjae?_

 

Even before Hyukjae can flip the notepad open to the next available page, Sungmin is at his spot in the kitchen, taking over the pasta dish that had been so close to finished. If Hyukjae had any concerns about the other man's ability to temporarily take his place (which, knowing the limits of his own skills, he really didn't), they would have been cast aside as he saw Sungmin expertly finish the garnish. The kitchen is in good hands.

 

Hyukjae takes a deep breath, and then he steps outside into the restaurant.

 

The first thought he has is how loud the normally quiet _St. J's_ is. Granted, Hyukjae is normally confined the kitchen for most of the work day, but he still has a general idea of the atmosphere, and this is far from the norm. He has to wipe a thin film of sweat from his hands as he approaches the occupied tables. His eyes lock with one woman who is clearly the tour group leader (it's not Hyukjae's intuition; her hat says 'tour leader' on it), and the friendly smile she sends him puts him at ease enough to speak.

 

“ _Hello, what can I get for you all today?_ ”

 

More than one head turns his way, the group surprised but clearly delighted that someone is speaking in a language that they understand. Hyukjae knows the feeling all too well.

 

It's the last thought he gets to indulge himself in before the craziness starts. The tour group explains to him how they're going to split the bill, and then they list off their orders, Hyukjae's pen scribbling a mile a minute. When he finally goes back to the kitchen with a last “ _Thank you, we'll start serving you as soon as we can_ ,” his hand is cramping and his head is spinning from the sheer amount of translation taking place inside his brain.

 

Hyukjae rushes the scrawl of orders to the kitchen, and it's not ten minutes before the first dishes are ready, a testament to how efficient Siwon and Sungmin have become over the years. What follows is a frankly insane feat of coordination as said men give Hyukjae dishes, while Hyukjae identifies them and refers to his notes to remember who ordered what. His greatest accomplishment, however, is probably getting the food to the customers without tripping over his own feet and dropping the precariously-balanced platters to the floor. It takes eight separate trips, but Hyukjae is successful.

 

He rewards himself with a minute of recovery by the register before making himself useful, keeping drinks filled and wiping down tables after the handful of other patrons take their leave. It's both stressful and somehow exhilarating to feel like _St. J's_ is resting entirely in his hands.

 

When everything is said and done, when the clock is just hitting closing time, when Hyukjae has delivered the split bill, the tour group starts to file out. Only their leader stays behind to call Hyukjae over to the table one last time.

 

“ _Thank you for your hard work today_ ,” she tells him earnestly, handing over the stack of separate payments.

 

“ _Oh, it was no problem, ma'am._ ”

 

“ _No need to be so humble. I know it wasn't an easy thing to serve all of us with no prior notice. Thank you, make sure to give my compliments to the chef, and...keep the change, will you?_ ”

 

She gives him one last smile before walking out to join the rest of the group, and Hyukjae takes a look at the payment resting on top of the stack. A shiver goes straight down his spine when he sees how much of a tip she's left. Her words had naturally made him expect some sort of amount, but this?

 

The squeak of the kitchen door opening reaches Hyukjae's ears, and Sungmin and Siwon both emerge, covered in flour and various sauces. Siwon goes to flip the restaurant's sign to 'closed,' but Sungmin is at Hyukjae's side in an instant.

 

“How did it go? Did they like it? Did they seem happy?” Sungmin asks him, barely pausing to take a breath.

 

“They seemed really happy; the tour leader asked me to tell you–”

 

“Did they pay the bill?”

 

Hyukjae hands over the money, realizing how his hands are shaking.

 

“You could say that,” is all he says.

 

Sungmin is silent as he reads through the receipts and counts the bills, but then his eyes suddenly go wide. “Siwon?” he calls, voice impressively calm. “Come over here for a minute.”

 

Even before the request is finished, Siwon is at Sungmin's side, looking over one of the receipts. Hyukjae can tell the exact moment he realizes what's happened, because that's when the two men turn to Hyukjae, looking more excited than Hyukjae has ever seen them before.

 

“Hyukjae...” Sungmin says “This is a big deal. Huge. I had my doubts about letting you take my place for tonight, but you did an excellent job.” His demeanor is a complete 180 from what Hyukjae has gotten accustomed to.

 

“I'll say,” Siwon adds, joining in on the praise. “The way you handled yourself was incredibly professional. Well done.”

 

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Hyukjae tells them, stumbling over his own words. “It was, um, my pleasure to help.”

 

It's the first time they've been...well, not so frigid and unwelcoming to him, and Hyukjae feels his heart soar. Before the moment is lost, he seizes the opportunity to pose the question that he's wanted to ask for a while now.

 

“I really did feel like tonight taught me a lot, so I was wondering if I'd be able to work overtime during the week. If you don't want to pay me for extra work, I understand and won't bring it up again, but it's something I would gladly do.”

 

Sungmin blinks at him, temporarily speechless. “Sorry, what did you say? I could've sworn you just asked to work overtime.”

 

“That is what I...? Sorry, I didn't mean to step out of line if–”

 

“No, nothing like that!” Sungmin isn't just happy, now; he's ecstatic. A wide smile breaks out on his face before he gets his excitement back under control and continues, “Of course you can; I'll pay you extra to stay a few hours after your shift. You'll have to forgive my surprise, but you're the first employee to stay this long, to be this dedicated to helping out at _St. J's_ since...well, since ever.”

 

_I've...only been working for ten days, haven't I? Or has time been blurring them together?_

 

Hyukjae must look as surprised as he feels, because Siwon immediately starts to elaborate. “You remember what I told you the first day on the job?” the other man asks. “I mentioned that the previous people who held your position were always quitting, but that was only after they'd spend their brief time here never taking the restaurant or me seriously. Sungmin and I know _St. J's_ owner –no, he doesn't come in for work, before you ask– which is why we've been working here from the beginning. We've always respected it. But no one else has ever shown that same respect.”

 

“And our understaffing problem hasn't gone without consequences,” Sungmin adds. “You must have noticed by now how we don't get a lot of customers no matter how hard we work. That’s because it's hard to turn our situation around when Siwon and I are the only ones who seem to care enough to fix it. I stopped trying to get close to the new employees a while ago since they were always leaving for 'better restaurants' and stealing secrets from _St. J's_ when they went. The last time it happened, I swore I wouldn't let myself seem that easy again.”

 

Sungmin hesitates before continuing, breaking eye contact for the briefest moment. “But I owe you an apology. I assumed that you were the same as the others, and I've been cold to you this whole time without giving you a chance to prove yourself. It was completely uncalled for. So far that, I'm sorry, Hyukjae.”

 

Before Hyukjae can say anything, Siwon steps in with his own apology.

 

“Sungmin wasn't the only one who made assumptions. I've been snippy with you in the kitchen because I assumed that you didn't care, when now I've come to realize that you were just trying to learn. The restaurant struggling has really put me on edge, and even though that's no real excuse, I'm also sorry.”

 

“I...I don't know what to say,” Hyukjae tells them sincerely. “Thank you, but I don't think either of you were entirely wrong. The critiques have helped me become a much better cook, and Sungmin, I really respect you for running a tight ship so that you can keep _St. J's_ afloat. If we can get along better from now on and work together to turn our luck around, that's enough for me.”

 

There's a few moments of weighted silence after that, during which the feeling of a newly united team begins to sink in, but Hyukjae only allows himself to bask in it for the most fleeting of seconds. The gears in his head have started spinning, and his mind is already elsewhere, thinking harder than he's ever thought before.

 

How are they going to save _St. J's_?

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**Day 24 (Friday)**

 

Two weeks later, the Venice evening finds Hyukjae heading home, tired but feeling successful after another day working overtime.

 

He's gotten used to the amount of work by now, and Sungmin is happy since having Hyukjae stay late means the restaurant can stay open past its normal closing time. They're able to get a bit more late-evening business for a minimal amount of investment (Hyukjae _is_ being paid, but _St. J's_ is certainly making a profit compared to his salary). Hyukjae is sure this is a step in the right direction.

 

He's in an especially good mood this evening, not just because of the café’s changing fortunes but because he got his paycheck today. _The_ paycheck, the amount that finally gives him just enough extra funds to afford the gondola ride that he's been working so hard for.

 

That good mood is what rejuvenated Hyukjae's work ethic for the evening, which is why he stayed later than usual. The rapidly setting sun as he left almost seemed to laugh at his foolishness, but he can't be bothered by the darkness or the slight chill. Not when he knows that he's about to experience the brightest part of the city again in...well, maybe he'll go tomorrow? Or maybe he should save it as a treat for in a few days. But hasn't he waited long enough?

 

Hyukjae is so busy thinking about the possibilities that his attention wavers from the road in front of him. He only snaps back to reality when a man steps in front of him, aggressively moving closer.

 

“ _Smettere di camminare, germoglio!_ ” the man says in gruff Italian. Hyukjae takes wary steps back as the man takes another step forward.

 

“ _Please, I don't want any trouble_ ,” Hyukjae insists. It's in English, which he's not sure the man will even understand, but the Italian for “Leave me alone!” isn't a phrase he'd thought to learn.

 

The plea goes entirely disregarded. If anything, the man starts walking even faster with even more aggressive foreign sentences thrown Hyukjae's way. Wariness starts to morph into fear, and Hyukjae doesn't think twice before turning to run the opposite way, but his progress is halted. There's another man. Another man that's been sneaking up on him all this time, one who tackles Hyukjae and pins him to the ground before he can register the pain of his back hitting the cobblestone.

 

Hyukjae opens his mouth to yell for help, but something glints in his line of vision, and he goes immediately silent and rigid. A knife. There's a knife held in his direction. He feels his wallet being yanked from his pocket, but he doesn't dare do anything more than curl up to protect himself and pray to every deity imaginable under his breath.

 

The thugs don't stay long. Hyukjae hears the sound of their retreating footsteps on the pavement, but it takes him a few more moments of shaking on the ground before he musters the courage to get back up. His wallet is lying spread on the ground next to him, and he shoves it back into his pocket before he all but sprints back to his apartment.

 

The door slams shut behind him, followed by the sound of Hyukjae fumbling to engage all three locks. Chest still heaving, he gingerly opens his wallet to assess the damage...and sees that every single bill he's worked so hard to earn this week is now gone.

 

Shock grips him tight for a long moment, to the point that he can hardly breathe. And then he breaks down.

 

It’s not at all like the episode he had at _St. J’s_ all those days ago; those tears were ones of shame and disappointment. The sobs that grip Hyukjae now are born from fear at how close he came to death yet again, from the gaping emptiness he feels at having his success ripped away from him at the moment of victory.

 

Hyukjae isn’t upset because of the money itself. No, as unfair as it was for someone to steal the fruits of his labor, that’s not the reason he feels like everything has fallen apart.

 

It's because he won't get to see Donghae again.

 

~*~

 

**Day 27 (Monday)**

 

When Hyukjae goes into _St. J's_ the next Monday, the enthusiasm that he had before is nowhere to be found. Instead of finding the hard work rewarding, marveling at how far his abilities have come along, he finds himself utterly emotionally drained.

 

He must be even more off his game than he thinks, because it's not long after the beginning of his shift when Sungmin comes into the kitchen, giving Siwon a short break after they exchange a few whispered words.

 

“So,” Sungmin asks him, straight to the point. “What's bothering you? Anything you want to talk about?”

 

“No, there's nothing like that,” Hyukjae lies. “I'm just...tired. Didn't get enough sleep last night.”

 

Sungmin is having none of it. “Hyukjae, I'm serious. Just because you work under me doesn't mean I don't care about what's happening with you. You can tell me if something's wrong.”

 

_Things have certainly changed around here, haven't they?_

 

Touched, Hyukjae can't help but open up.

 

“Okay, this might sound crazy, but hear me out,” he says. “After my first day in Venice that turned out to be all kinds of horrible, there was this gondolier who literally saved my life. I won't get into what happened because it's embarrassing, but he –Donghae– and I got close, and I used the rest of my extra funds to pay for a gondola ride. It seems stupid, but that ride meant everything to me. I had two things back that I haven't had in a long time: my inspiration, as well as a friend. I was determined to work as hard as I could to save up enough money to do it again.”

 

Hyukjae halts in the middle of the story, thinking that he's revealed too much, but the intent expression on the other man's face encourages him to continue.

 

“Friday night when I was walking home, just after saving enough, I wasn't paying enough attention. I got cornered by two thugs who robbed me blind and who I thought for sure were going to finish me off. All that hard work just...gone.”

 

“If they took everything...” Sungmin is immediately more concerned. “I'm not trying to pry, but are you still able to pay your rent? If they threaten to evict you, maybe I can try to convince Kyuhyun to let you take the extra room in his apartment.”

 

“No, I've got it covered,” Hyukjae tells him with a sad shrug of his shoulders. “I'm using the money I've saved up so far for the gondola to cover rent and groceries for this week. I'll just have to start over again with saving, but that's why I'm grateful that you let me work overtime for extra pay. I'll make it up.”

 

Sungmin is silent for a long moment, seemingly unsure of what to say. “I'm sorry for what happened, and I hope things turn around for you,” he finally says, and then he leaves Hyukjae to continue miserably stirring his cream sauce.

 

When it gets to the end of his regular shift, Hyukjae goes to ask Sungmin for the keys so that he can lock up. He says that he'll start working his extra time, as usual, but then his normal routine suddenly goes off the rails.

 

“You can't work anymore tonight,” Sungmin tells him.

 

The betrayal hits Hyukjae like a punch to the gut. After all the personal things he'd shared with Sungmin, after the trust he'd placed in him...this?

 

“I thought you understood why–” Hyukjae starts to protest, but the other man cuts him off with a firm hand on his shoulder.

 

“You can't work anymore tonight,” Sungmin repeats, “because I believe you have a ticket for a gondola ride.”

 

Before Hyukjae can ask what the hell he's talking about, Sungmin presses a rubber-banded wad of bills into his hands. Hyukjae accepts it even before the full weight of the money hits him, hardly believing it's real. He stares at it like it will disappear at any moment.

 

“Siwon and I put together some money so that you can go see your favorite gondolier. Think of it as our way of saying thank you for your hard work, as well as a way to get you back to normal so you can do _St. J's_ justice. We can't have our beam of optimism turning into a storm cloud now, can we?”

 

Hyukjae nearly gets down on his knees to bow, but stops himself just in time with the thought that it would probably be embarrassing for both of them. Still, it doesn't change just how eternally grateful he is. He inclines his head with a sincere “Thank you so much,” before adding, “I'll go right after work tomorrow.”

 

_So you can emotionally prepare yourself, huh?_ his thoughts mock him, but he pushes them aside.

 

Sungmin shakes his head, immediately shutting Hyukjae down. “Not a chance. You're going tonight so that you can't chicken out.”

 

“But, Sungmin–”

 

“I mean it. From what I know about you, Hyukjae, if you push it off once, you'll want to keep pushing it off until you think you deserve it. You've earned this; tonight's just as good as any other night.”

 

Hyukjae can't argue with that logic.

 

“Fine,” he relents before he can change his mind. “I'll go tonight, but only as a favor to you.”

 

And so his fate is sealed. Hyukjae leaves with one last 'thank you' to Sungmin, nervous for reasons he can't place, and begins the route down the cobblestone pathways that he's beginning to know by heart.

 

~*~

 

The docks look exactly like Hyukjae remembers. Even just the familiar surroundings stir something deep in his gut, and a peaceful feeling settles over his body. This is where he's meant to be.

 

He heads toward the spot that he knows is Donghae's, eyebrows furrowing when he finds the familiar boat floating there but short of its owner. Just as he begins to second-guess his memory, a voice behind him gets his attention.

 

“Hyukjae!”

 

He turns around to see Donghae walking his way, a surprised smile on his face. That smile immediately makes Hyukjae's world feel a little brighter, and he tells himself to stop being ridiculous when his heart picks up, getting ahead of itself at the thought of the excitement that awaits him.

 

It's been far too long.

 

“I wasn't sure if I'd get to see you again,” Donghae admits. “After a few weeks went by, I figured you weren't coming back because you'd gotten sick of me.”

 

“Sick of you? Never,” Hyukjae teases him before he can stop himself, reveling in the victory of the toothy grin he gets in return.

 

The second Hyukjae sets foot on the gondola, everything feels like it's fallen into place again.

 

When they're far enough out, Donghae lets them drift, setting his oar across the gondola and squatting down to Hyukjae's level. “So,” Donghae asks, “I've been curious for a while, but now I have to ask: why did someone who can hardly speak Italian come to live in Italy?”

 

“To be honest? Escape,” Hyukjae admits. For whatever reason, he feels safe here revealing his heart. “I'd learned to live without my parents' acceptance of me becoming an author. But I couldn't live with the repeated cycle of failure and ridicule; it wore me down to the point that I sometimes got close to giving up entirely, bowing to my parents' dreams instead of mine. And that was before the breaking point.”

 

Hyukjae almost ends it there, but when he sees Donghae looking at him with concern, asking quietly, “What happened?” he gathers his courage and continues.

 

“There was...a girl. I thought I loved her. We were together for nearly two years until I learned that she didn't feel the same way. She'd been using me, biding her time before turning everything around and making me look like a monster while she came out looking like a saint. I suppose I should have seen it coming, considering I knew from the start that she was out of my league, but...the lies she spread about me? All my friends turning their backs when I needed them the most? Not even I could have seen that. I needed a fresh start, and that's what I came to Venice for: starting over.”

 

Donghae doesn't judge him, not once. “And have things turned around?”

 

“That's a matter of perspective, I guess.” Hyukjae manages a half-smile. “My first day here was a series of disasters that ended up dumping me into the Grand Canal –which I can never thank you enough for saving me from, I should add– but things seemed like they were getting better...except for Friday night when I got mugged and lost my last paycheck. It could have been worse; I'm still alive, and my coworkers pooled money for me to be able to come here tonight. So maybe my luck really has turned around.”

 

“Hyukjae, you...” For the first time since they've met, Donghae seems at a loss for words. “I don't know what to say. Don't take this the wrong way, but why go through so much to come back again?”

 

“Oh. Umm, because I really love gondola rides. Being an aspiring author means I have to get inspiration, you know, and this is the best way I've found to do it.”

 

_Because I wanted to see you again_ , Hyukjae's brain supplies in place of the flimsy excuse. The thought is quickly shooed away.

 

Donghae laughs, sounding amused enough that Hyukjae suspects he's been seen right through, but doesn't say anything more about it.

 

There's something special about today's ride. While it's just as beautiful and as peaceful as the previous ones, there's something about the circumstances that led to it that make the experience seem like the result of Fate – like Hyukjae is finally on the right path to whatever his destination is supposed to be. The breeze that makes ripples in the water whispers for him, the setting sun's beams shine across the water to light his way. He's never felt happier.

 

And maybe Hyukjae isn't the only one who feels it, because Donghae turns to him immediately after they dock, looking almost shy.

 

“You know, Hyukjae,” Donghae tells him, “you don't need to save up for so long if you want to hang out again. We can get together in the piazza a few blocks north of the dock. I don't have work on weekends, so maybe this Saturday?” A teasing grin makes its way onto his face. “Unless you actually _were_ just here for the gondola ride, that is.”

 

_I really am that transparent, aren't I?_

 

Even before Hyukjae is done agreeing, he already can't wait until Saturday.

 

There's a certain thrill to the unexpected change of schedule, to the anticipation of it all. That feeling follows Hyukjae all the way back home, running up his spine and accumulating in the back of his head until he has to let it all out: the tangle of emotions twisted in his gut, the sheer beauty of the city encapsulated in that single gondola ride, and the hovering sense of Fate around it all.

 

Pages fly off the desk as Hyukjae writes and writes. Flashes of memory are translated into strokes of graphite across paper, and he's in such a frenzy that the clock is the last thing on his mind. It's 3 in the morning by the time that Hyukjae practically collapses, half-sprawled across his desk and inspiration finally spent.

 

It's the best night's sleep he's had in years.

 

~*~

 

**Day 28 (Tuesday)**

 

When Hyukjae shows up for work the next day, he looks like a walking train wreck. The dangerous levels of caffeine keeping him conscious hadn't exactly prioritized his appearance that morning, which explains the messy excuse for a hairstyle on top of his head, the bloodshot eyes, and the hastily thrown-on clothes that almost-but-don't-quite match.

 

He goes directly through the front door to a mildly-alarmed Sungmin and Siwon, still clutching a few pages from his hurricane of inspiration the previous night, and tells them in an excited rush, “I know what we can do to save the restaurant!”

 

Sungmin's interest is visibly piqued, now more excited than worried for Hyukjae's mental state.

 

“Go on,” he prompts.

 

“Okay, hear me out on this, but I was hit with an idea yesterday: poetry night.” At the blank stares he receives, Hyukjae backpedals. “It sounds stupid, I know, but think: if we hosted it on certain days of the week, we could distinguish _St. J's_ from other restaurants. Any of us or any customers who wanted to could read something out loud, as long as they checked in with us beforehand, and it would make us the place to be. It's worth a shot, isn't it?”

 

Sungmin and Siwon share a look, the latter shrugging his shoulders as if to say, 'I don't see why not'.

 

“We can do a trial run of it next Wednesday,” Sungmin agrees, much to Hyukjae's delight. “But, I do have to ask...what exactly has you so inspired all of a sudden? It wouldn't be your date, would it?” He's sporting a grin like the cat that caught the canary.

 

“Well that's just...no. No!” Hyukjae's face flames as he clutches the crumpled pages protectively to his chest. “I had an amazing time, but you're getting the wrong idea!”

 

“Of course we are,” Siwon tells him, barely containing his laughter. “But if you need a best man for your wedding, just let us–”

 

Hyukjae gives him a good-natured shove before the other man can finish, heading toward the back of the restaurant. When the mocking persists, he sticks his fingers in his ears and loudly rambles about “delusional bystanders who are entirely misconstruing the situation” before popping into the kitchen. As he ties the apron around his waist, Hyukjae can't help but shake his head at the thought of what Sungmin and Siwon are implying. But he still can't hide the excited smile on his face for an entirely different reason.

 

He's sure of it: next Wednesday is going to be the beginning of a new era at _St. J's_.

 

~*~

 

**Day 33 (Saturday)**

 

Saturday morning finds Hyukjae slowly waking up to start the day, dragging his feet as he shuffles through the motions.

 

As he lazily brushes his teeth, however, something bothers him. There's a feeling swimming somewhere in the back of his mind, some vague recollection of an obligation...

 

_LEE HYUKJAE, YOU IDIOT._

 

Of course he has an obligation: he'd promised to spend the day with Donghae today, which means he needs to leave for the piazza by...

 

Hyukjae nearly chokes on his toothpaste when he sees the time, a frenzy of uncoordinated limbs as he finishes brushing and tries to pick out something decent to wear, while simultaneously doing his best to tame the tragic bedhead staring back at him in the mirror.

 

He sprints through the city to Piazza San Marco, feet pounding to the steady rhythm of _I'm late, I'm late, I'm so late_. Which would have been effective, too, except he’s so focused on making it there that he forgets to pay attention to where he’s going. Just as he reaches the piazza, Hyukjae runs smack into some unlucky soul who chooses that moment to step in front of him.

 

He nearly falls over, but the stranger catches him just in time, and...no, 'stranger' is definitely not the right word. Hyukjae would recognize this face anywhere.

 

“Thanks for the rescue,” Hyukjae says, not missing the irony.

 

Donghae matches his grin, helping him regain his footing. “I feel like we’ve had this talk before, haven't we? Don't worry; today is going to be a significant step up from that night. Today I'm going to show you the fun side of Venice.” He motions to the backpack slung over his shoulders. “And even better, I came prepared. Let's go!”

 

He takes Hyukjae's hand before the other can even register the words, pulling him along deeper into the city. And so it begins.

 

Seeing Donghae's Venice is like seeing the city with entirely new eyes. Donghae makes sure to inject his own commentary into the list of sights they see, from the _Basilica di San Marco_ (“The first stone for the _basilica_ was put down in 800, and it's still the most beautiful place here.”), to the Doge’s Palace (“Trust me, we could spend the whole day here if we go inside. Best to see the Bridge of Sighs from here, instead.”), to the Rialto Market (“Don't touch any of the produce unless you want to be chased off the island.”). By the time the sun is directly overhead, Hyukjae feels like he knows a good part of the city like the back of his hand.

 

They're about to head to the next destination on the list when Hyukjae's stomach audibly grumbles, making Donghae laugh at the sudden sound.

 

“Come on, I'll take you to my favorite sandwich place,” he says once he has his amusement under control, and they're off again.

 

It's clear once they get there why this restaurant is Donghae's favorite. The window display alone draws Hyukjae in like a moth to a flame, and inside there are even more options set out across the counters. After a solid few minutes of narrowing down what he wants, he finally settles on a ham and Swiss cheese panini, but when he reaches for his wallet he sees Donghae already buying for both of them.

 

“You didn't have to pay for me, you know,” Hyukjae tells him as they wander down the narrow side road, but Donghae is having none of it.

 

“My idea, my treat. Don't worry about it. We just need to find...ah, here we are.”

 

Donghae makes a sharp left, and Hyukjae follows him, somewhat confused. But when he lays eyes on their destination, he nearly drops his sandwich.

 

They're in a tucked-away courtyard, small but beautiful. A metallic blue sculpture stands in the middle surrounded by stone benches, but most striking are the smaller sculptures on all four sides of the space, making it seem like some sort of secret oasis. And maybe it is: there's not another soul here to share the hidden beauty with them.

 

They sit and enjoy their sandwiches, along with the water that Donghae so cleverly packed in his backpack. Hyukjae admires the sculpture in front of him as he eats: a wireframe masterpiece depicting that iconic image of Abbey Road. It's like he's found the artistic center of Venice, and he absolutely loves it.

 

When the two of them finish eating, Hyukjae expects them to go, but Donghae pulls a camera out of his backpack and tells him that they need a photo-op to remember this day. Hyukjae copies him as he kneels by a colorful sculpture on the other side of the courtyard, one that has patterned, multicolored shapes twisted to spell out the word 'Love'. There's a _click_ as Donghae's phone captures the moment, and Hyukjae's stomach does this weird flutter that he mostly ignores.

 

Content and satiated, they leave the courtyard soon after the picture. Donghae brings them back to Piazza San Marco, and though Hyukjae doesn't know what to expect when the other man pulls a rubber-banded bag of birdseed out of his backpack, he doesn't need to wait long to find out. With pure glee in his expression, Donghae cheerfully informs him that this is his number one method to getting rid of tourists who choose to be a nuisance for everyone else in the piazza; his plan becomes abundantly clear after he quietly drops a handful of the birdseed near a group of particularly rude visitors. Hyukjae can't help but join in on Donghae's infectious laughter as a flock of pigeons swarms the area and throws the group into a state of chaos.

 

They escape the scene of the crime soon after, picking out a spot to sit on the peripheral of the piazza. It's close enough that they can enjoy watching the hustle and bustle of the crowds, but still far from the insanity in San Marco’s heart. Donghae insists on buying each of them raspberry gelato from a nearby alleyway shop (“You know, how have I worked at an Italian restaurant for a month and never had gelato?” Hyukjae muses), and they sit and watch as tour groups gape at the architecture surrounding them, as a puppy chases its owner through a different flock of startled pigeons, as the city's heartbeat thrums with a deep, steady rhythm.

 

At the end of it all, when the sunlight starts to fade, Hyukjae turns to Donghae with mixed feelings, still riding the high of today's experience but not wanting it to end.

 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, “I mean it. This was amazing. Do you think...maybe we could do this again sometime? If you're not too busy, that is.”

 

Donghae lights up at the words. “Anytime, Hyukjae,” he says. “I had a great day, too. But I also like when I can take you out on the gondola, even though I know you can't do that as often.” He wrinkles his nose in thought for a moment before he continues. “If you'd like, I can give you a ride after my working hours. It's not technically allowed, but no one's ever noticed before.”

 

“Don't tell me...that's what you were up to the night that you pulled me out of the canal? I always wondered what you were doing out on the water so late.”

 

“You caught me.” A lopsided grin. “But I don't do this for all of my customers, if that's what you're thinking. Interested?”

 

“That would be amazing,” Hyukjae says earnestly. He's not sure why he has the sudden urge to hug Donghae goodbye, but before he can do something embarrassing, the other man is already waving his farewell. Is it ridiculous for Hyukjae to say that he already can't wait until the next time they meet? It's the first thought that pops into his head after they part ways.

 

He gets back to his house around sunset, and is immediately drawn to the hurricane of crinkled papers and half-scrawled ideas still strewn across his desk. The burst of inspiration that's been building up over the span of the day focuses his mind, moves his hand with purpose as he refines those ideas into a poem that pours his heart onto the page.

 

For a first draft, it exceeds all of Hyukjae's expectations. He smiles at the opening lines as he begins to re-read the poem in full.

 

“Then suddenly a lighthouse,” he murmurs under his breath, halfway down the page, “a morning star to chase away...all the doubt and all the demons, a new dawn on...”

 

_Wait a second._

 

This isn't written about some abstract set of events. How is he just noticing it now, after he's written the whole piece out? This stanza –no, this entire poem– is about a person, not just an experience. And the imagery that he's chosen makes it sounds like...

 

When he's scanned over the rest, Hyukjae sits back in his chair, thoughts spinning so rapidly in his head that he feels dizzy. The pencil falls from his hand with a quiet _clack!_ , and the sound coincides with a final moment of clarity, a moment when he realizes what he should have noticed for a long while now.

 

He's falling in love.

 

The things Hyukjae has accomplished –his renewed inspiration, a happiness he hasn't felt in years– haven't been because of the gondola rides themselves or the sights of the city. No, he sees now that it was childish to attribute the changes to something so simple. He's happy precisely because he's gone through this metamorphosis with _Donghae_ , the one he's come to care so much for.

 

(And the racing in his chest? The sense of belonging? These things certainly haven’t just been a reaction to Venice.)

 

He sits there for a few more silent moments, staring blankly at the wall until he lets everything out in a single pronounced syllable to the empty room.

 

“ _Oh._ ”

 

~*~

 

**Day 37 (Wednesday)**

 

It's the trial run of Poetry Night at _St. J's_ , and Hyukjae couldn't be any more nervous.

 

They've been posting flyers around town throughout the week in any place that someone has a chance of seeing them, which seems to have worked out well: a small crowd has showed up to see what all the fuss has been about. It's great, Hyukjae knows in his heart, and it's what he wanted to come of his idea, but...the crowd admittedly makes him nervous because _this is really happening_.

 

A makeshift stage has been set up in the back of the restaurant, with the tables arranged so that all places will have a clear view of whoever stands there. Right now, that view is of Sungmin, who steps onto the stage and taps the microphone that Siwon wired yesterday evening.

 

“ _Welcome to St. J's_ ,” Sungmin says in accented English, before switching back to the Italian he's more comfortable in. “ _Thank you for coming; we're excited to see how many of you were interested in our event. I don't want to waste too much time on introductions, so without any more formalities, here's the first of our selected customers here to present her work._ ”

 

The woman –a tourist, Hyukjae guesses– steps on to the stage and starts reciting in English, and Hyukjae is pleasantly surprised that tonight’s 'amateur talent' is starting off on a good note. He's fully engaged in the words flowing from onstage when someone taps him on the shoulder and breaks his concentration.

 

“Shouldn't you be in the kitchen?” the man asks, and Hyukjae turns around to see Cho Kyuhyun smirking at him.

 

He'd really only met Kyuhyun earlier that evening. Sungmin and Siwon had both mentioned him before, of course, as a friend who worked part-time on the weekends, but he'd been called in tonight to take some of the pressure off the other multitasking employees. Sungmin had hoped it would be good luck, that having an extra worker on hand would mean they'd be busy enough to need extra help, and it seems to have worked. That being said, just because Hyukjae appreciates Kyuhyun's help doesn’t mean that he necessarily appreciates his sense of humor.

 

With a good-natured (but entirely sarcastic) roll of his eyes, Hyukjae heads back toward the kitchen to join Siwon in preparing the meals for tonight's event. But he doesn't get very far; the moment he steps through the door and meets the head cook’s eyes, Siwon starts to shoo him out.

 

“Go enjoy the night, Hyukjae,” Siwon tells him. “It was your idea, after all, so I think you deserve to take a break.”

 

“But I don't want you having to make–”

 

“That's an order. And I'm not making everything by myself; Kyuhyun's here to help, and Sungmin can help when he's not too busy. Besides, shouldn't you be practicing your own poem?”

 

Hyukjae feels a nervous flicker in his gut at the thought, which must not go unnoticed, because Siwon quickly changes his tone.

 

“Come on, don't be nervous,” he says sincerely. “I'm sure you'll do great. And I know English well enough to translate it for Sungmin so he can enjoy it, too, alright?”

 

“Thanks, Siwon.” Hyukjae can't help but crack a smile at the other man's words. Before he can second-guess himself, he steps back outside.

 

One Italian customer is just finishing, and Hyukjae catches the final stanza of his piece, along with the smattering of applause that follows. From where he takes up a spot leaning against the wall, Hyukjae watches as one more person presents in English, enjoying himself immensely. Siwon was right; this is good for him to experience, to see how his brainchild is materializing. The enjoyment on the faces of the audience members is more than enough of a reward.

 

And then, much to Hyukjae's surprise, Kyuhyun steps onto the stage.

 

The poem he presents is much less of a shock. In theatric Italian, Kyuhyun begins to recite an angst-ridden, 'everyone is going to die' piece that Hyukjae thinks both suits him and is incredibly too melodramatic. Still, the audience swoons over it, and he's happy that his fellow employee was willing and able to participate. He claps along with the rest of the crowd with genuine praise.

 

Kyuhyun bows to the applause he receives, passing Sungmin on his way back off the stage with an accomplished high-five.

 

“ _And now_ ,” Sungmin introduces, “ _for our final participant. This next person is the one who made all of tonight possible. It's my pleasure to introduce St. J's very own Hyukjae Lee._ ”

 

Already? Hyukjae pales the moment his name is announced. He was so busy enjoying the night that he forgot to mentally prepare himself, leaving him frozen in place with nerves. Sungmin meets his eyes from the stage, giving him a concerned look, but Hyukjae can't make his legs move until hands shove him forward and snap him out of it. Hyukjae catches a glance of Siwon when he looks over his shoulder, the other man apparently having come out of the kitchen to watch.

 

_No pressure or anything, huh?_

 

Hyukjae adjusts the microphone, clears his throat, takes a deep breath. And he starts to read.

 

“A scared, hopeless runaway

searching for a home.

Who craves a place to start again,

but ends up more alone.

 

Expressions closed like doors,

and words like sharpened swords.

A bent and broken castaway

washed up on hostile shores.

 

Then suddenly a lighthouse,

a morning star to chase away

All the doubt and all the demons,

a new dawn on a new day.

 

Now the weeks don't feel so long,

every hour precious time.

Fate may have leant a helping hand,

but it was you who made me shine.”

 

Even as he's stepping away from the microphone with a sincere “thank you,” the assembled crowd breaks into a round of raucous applause. It pulls Hyukjae back to reality from the poetic trance he'd been under, and he has to take it in for a few moments before he believes it: acceptance. Encouragement.

 

_They...they really liked it. They're clapping for me._

 

Hyukjae blinks back the happiness that threatens to overflow from his body, simply allowing the cheers to fill his body as he takes a bow.

 

It's a moment he never allows himself to forget.

 

~*~

 

That night, Hyukjae goes to see Donghae again for his second unauthorized ride, practically skipping down the familiar path. It's hard not to, with the memories of this evening's resounding success. Not only had today been one of _St. J's_ most successful nights to date, but Sungmin had agreed to make Wednesday Poetry Nights the new tradition. Hyukjae is already running through lists of ideas and lines for his poem next week.

 

When he shows up to the dock, however, Donghae isn't alone.

 

Hyukjae's first thought is that they've been found out, that Donghae has finally been caught for breaking the rules. Hoping he can somehow salvage the gondolier’s reputation, he turns to go, but Donghae calls him over before he can leave.

 

“Hyukjae, this is Matteo,” Donghae introduces, motioning to the vaguely familiar gondolier standing beside him. “I know you've seen each other before, but you've never officially met. It just so happens that with a little convincing, Matteo volunteered to row for both of us tonight so I can finally give my arms a rest. That sound alright with you?”

 

Hyukjae can't say he's entirely on board with the idea, especially after the blank stare he receives from Matteo, but he trusts Donghae's judgement.

 

“If you think it's a good idea, sure.”

 

“ _Le cose che facciamo per amore..._ ” Matteo mutters, but Donghae cheerfully elbows him in the gut and they get into the boat.

 

It's different with Donghae sitting across from him in the seats rather than rowing on the back of the boat, but Hyukjae likes it. It's more personal this way, despite the third person involved in their ritual. Though, now that he thinks about it, Hyukjae can't help but feel self-conscious about talking when Matteo is right within earshot. He stays quiet until Donghae notices something's off and eases his concerns.

 

“Trust me, Matteo knows literally zero Korean; he never thought it was useful enough to learn. You can talk about anything you want and I'll be the only one to understand you.”

 

The tension leaves Hyukjae's muscles at once. “Well, in that case,” he says, much more comfortable, “There _is_ something I wanted to tell you about. I haven't entirely broken out of my creative slump, but I did get to read my poetry for a lot of people tonight. The response was...wow, I still can't believe that they liked it that much. It was nice to finally get that positive reinforcement, you know? Makes it seem like I'm doing the right thing after all.”

 

_Makes it seem like my life was meant to turn around from the moment I met you._

 

“That's amazing, Hyukjae!” The smile Donghae gives him practically glows. “It's about time that people start realizing what they've been missing out on the whole time you've been here in Venice. Just don't forget about me when you're rich and famous, alright?”

 

Before Hyukjae can insist how that's one thing Donghae never has to worry about, the other man suddenly sits up in his seat. “You know what we need? Something special to celebrate your success. I say we pull out all the stops and treat you to a classic gondola serenade.” He turns around to Matteo, asking, “ _Possiamo avere una canzone?_ ”

 

Matteo looks unimpressed. “ _Devi pagare me più a cantare._ ”

 

“ _Veramente? Per me?_ ”

 

This time, the other man snorts before he starts to sing in a deep, ringing tenor, and Donghae turns back to Hyukjae with a satisfied smile on his face.

 

The feeling of the gondola ride is different this time still. It's an unexpectedly perfect combination between the close proximity to Donghae and the practiced vocals in the background, and maybe just a little bit due to the fact that this is the first time Hyukjae has gone on one of these rides understanding the state that his heart is in. The feeling nearly overwhelms him, and Hyukjae thinks that if he fell out of the boat and drowned right this instant, he could die a happy man.

 

A perfect end to a perfect night.

 

~*~

 

**Day 44 (Wednesday)**

 

Hyukjae thought that the crowd at the opening Poetry Night was the most people _St. J's_ would ever host at once, but the second Wednesday proves him wrong.

 

It feels like the whole of Venice is here in the restaurant with how crowded it is, to the point that Sungmin has to pull out the extra chairs that they've kept hidden in a storage closet for years. Where did all these people come from? How did they know about tonight's event? Hyukjae can't hide his surprise when each new group packs into the space.

 

“What exactly did you do for this many people to show up? Better advertising?” he asks Sungmin as he scans the crowd, but the question just brings a smile to the other man's face.

 

“You didn't know? _St. J's_ is getting a little famous now, but it's not because of anything Siwon and I have been up to. These people are here because they want to see _you_.”

 

A warm feeling blossoms in Hyukjae's chest, going off like fireworks.

 

“Blow them away,” Sungmin tells him, and he heads toward the stage, leaving Hyukjae standing there somewhere between elated and shocked.

 

He watches almost as in a trance as a new lineup of customers recite their carefully crafted poems, doesn't even have the right state of mind to be amused by Kyuhyun's new nihilistic piece that the rest of the crowd fawns over. It's like he's trapped in a tunnel; his mind vaguely processes that things are happening around him, but all too quickly he's gone from having a comfortable amount of leeway for preparing himself to it suddenly being time for the final performance. For Hyukjae.

 

But the cheers that sound as he takes the stage immediately wash his nerves away. He feels at peace when he starts the spoken introduction to his newest poem, slipping back into English with ease.

 

“ _This was written after spending a lot of time with the person I've realized I'm in love with. There's no one I'm happier around, no one else who's been able to inspire me in the same way. I'm not sure when I'll be able to confess, or if this person even feels the same way, but...this is me getting my thoughts sorted out. Thank you._ ”

 

_Just like we practiced,_ he tells himself. And he begins.

 

“When the whole world turned its back,

you alone reached out to me.

You were my port, my anchor

when I was lost at sea.

 

I've kept my feelings tempered,

denied myself so carelessly.

But I've found that by your side

is where I'm mean to be.”

 

He looks up from the paper in his hands for no longer than an instant, and he falters.

 

It's not because of any stage fright, any sudden stumble in his memory, any disapproving looks in the crowd. It's because there's someone standing there, looking up at him from the back of the room, that temporarily takes Hyukjae's breath away.

 

_Donghae._

 

Just as quickly as the words die in his throat, Hyukjae feels himself freeze up. He wills his body to move, to get lost again in the flow of the words, but it's as if he's forgotten how to do something that's become as easy as breathing.

 

When he regains control of his limbs, Hyukjae's first instinct is to run off the stage, and he gets _this_ close to turning tail...but that's when he catches Donghae's eye for the second time that evening. And the silent encouragement that the other man conveys to the stage with nothing more than a single nod.

 

_I can do this. I believe in myself, and so does he. Relax, breathe, and..._

 

“They say the city's sinking,

that's alright, I'm falling, too.

Before I didn't believe in love,

these two months changed my view.”

 

He doesn't glance once at the paper. No, he's rehearsed this confession enough times to have it memorized by heart. He looks straight into Donghae's eyes as he reads the final few stanzas.

 

“And if we should part ways,

_Venezia_ fades into the Blue...

I hope these calm jade waters

will bring me back to you.”

 

A rousing round of applause follows the words, along with more than a few teary eyes in the audience. But Hyukjae still can't look away from Donghae and his soft, understanding smile until the crowd surges forward and breaks his gaze.

 

“ _Thank you_ ,” they tell him in many languages. “ _Grazie_. _Nos encantó su poema._ _Serez-vous la semaine prochaine?_ _わたしは、あなたを愛しています_!” and Hyukjae thanks them in return the best that he can. The conversations go by in a rush, blurring together in a tangle of faces and colors, until at last the crowd files out of the restaurant and leaves no one behind aside from the group of satisfied employees. And, walking toward Hyukjae from the back of a suddenly quiet _St. J's_ , Donghae.

 

Hyukjae wants nothing more than to spew out the words that are nearly bursting from his chest, but...

 

Kyuhyun is the first to catch his eye, something immediately clicking in his face before he turns to the others.

 

“Wow, would you look at how late it is? I say it's time for all of us to head out; Hyukjae can revel in his victory for a little while longer before he locks the place up.”

 

With a rather aggressive tug on the others' shirtsleeves, he leads them out, leaving Hyukjae and Donghae alone in the acute quiet of the restaurant.

 

“So...you know where I work?” Hyukjae asks before the silence can get any heavier, probably sounding more accusatory than he means to. Seeing Donghae here isn't an unpleasant surprise, despite his reaction earlier...but it also means Donghae had heard the words intended for him at a different moment, in a different circumstance. The situation has Hyukjae's world spinning off its axis.

 

What he doesn't expect is for Donghae to reach into his pocket before giving an answer, pulling out a folded-up piece of paper. He opens it up and smooths out the creases with careful hands, and that's when Hyukjae recognizes the bright blue printing that matches the wallpaper adorning _St. J's_ walls. A flyer.

 

“You dropped hints occasionally during our time together, even if they were on accident. After you told me about your poetry, and after I saw these hanging around the city, I made the connection. But I couldn’t be sure if my hunch was right until I came to see for myself.”

 

By now, it shouldn't surprise him, but Hyukjae still finds himself touched by how intently Donghae had been paying attention to his words. It would have been nice enough to have found someone to listen to his rambling and ranting, but for someone to remember? For someone to be able to go back and connect the dots? He's even luckier than he thought. And on that note...

 

“Did you, um, like the poem?” Hyukjae asks him, even more nervous than he was before he stepped on stage.

 

“My English _is_ a little rusty, so I might have to ask you to repeat some of it again...”

 

Hyukjae starts to wish the floor would swallow him up before Donghae steps forward, the teasing expression on the other man's face making him realize it was a joke.

 

“Of course I liked it,” Donghae tells him. “How could I not? My only note would be about your introduction; I don't see why the confusion was if _I_ was interested in _you_. I thought it was fairly obvious that I've been dropping hints during our entire time together. Don't you remember our first meeting? What I told you before you left? _Hai dei bellissimi occhi._ You have–”

 

“Beautiful eyes,” Hyukjae finishes for him, the memory doing distressing things to his heart. But something occurs to him, and he can't help but point out, mock suspicious, “And that gondola ride where Matteo just happened to be there to row, that just happened to be more than a little romantic? I'm starting to think that was some sort of setup.”

 

Now it's Donghae's turn to be sheepish.

 

“I thought that...I just didn't want you to feel pressured or anything like that. I thought if I did something romantic then you might open up about being interested in me, or else it would give you a polite way to tell me you weren't. Maybe it was a stupid way to go about it.”

 

Hyukjae can't help the way his lips tug upward into a grin when he steps forward. “We're both a little ridiculous, aren't we?”

 

“Incredibly so,” Donghae agrees, matching his step.

 

Before he can think twice, Hyukjae takes the leap.

 

“You know what would also be ridiculous? If you kissed me in the middle of the café.”

 

Donghae's eyes turn into crescents when he smiles. “Now _that_ wouldn't be ridiculous at all,” he says, and nothing in Venice –no picturesque vista, no glowing sunset, no peaceful gondola ride– could even come close to comparing to the moment when the distance between them closes.

 

Hyukjae has spent his entire life cursing Fate, but he'd go through all of it again if it meant being right here, where he knows he belongs.

 

~*~

 

From there, things only get better.

 

After the resounding success of adding Poetry Night to the weekly schedule, even the boss of _St. J's_ is driven to come and see them, as well as congratulate them on a job well done.

 

It's the first time Hyukjae has ever seen the older man who'd hired Sungmin and Siwon so long ago, but it also turns out to be the last: soon after the meeting, Sungmin is given the title of owner and full control of the restaurant. It's something hard-earned and well-deserved. The other employees couldn't be more proud.

 

With the increased number of customers, however, there's one more change amongst their ranks. Kyuhyun gladly drops the other busywork he'd been doing on the side to work full-time at _St. J's_. After the switch, his poems even sound the slightest bit less full of angst, but that could just be Hyukjae imagining things. Either way, the restaurant is packed every Wednesday and always popular; it's the beginning of a new era.

 

And as for Hyukjae?

 

Even after the success he's had toward his original goal, throwing in his apron is out of the question. He's grown to love and care for _St. J's_ far too much to quit. But that doesn't mean that he abandons his dream of writing: his poetry translates wonderfully into novel form, and the book takes off with the decent fanbase he's made for himself during Poetry Nights at the restaurant. It seems a little narcissistic to use the term 'breakout author' to talk about himself, but he wouldn't be wrong.

 

The money Hyukjae earns from the book won't go to waste, either. It's been months since he moved into Donghae's apartment after the other's insistence that he get as far away as he could from the sketchy area he was living in before. But Hyukjae doesn't plan on letting his kindness go unrewarded; he's going to surprise Donghae with a brand new place that they can both enjoy. It seems only fitting that his first splurge should be shared between the two of them. After all, ever since they met, haven't they always been in this together?

 

That's one thing that stays constant, no matter how many changes are going on around them. They're together. Each Wednesday night after they've both worked their shifts, they make it their set routine to meet up and go out in Donghae's gondola together, to dip back into the magic that first intertwined their lives. Still, even as time passes, Hyukjae thinks the sights of Venice's night pale in comparison to the image of Donghae illuminated by the moonlight.

 

Hyukjae knows nothing is set in stone. The city is slowly slipping away from all of them, even if they don't notice the change. The places they love could be underwater before they get to say goodbye. _St. J's_ could just as easily fall back into obscurity as it backed away from the edge. There's no telling that any of this could last forever.

 

But the friendships that Hyukjae has made, the bonds of trust that he's formed? The love that he's been lucky enough to discover? These aren't temporary; they _will_ last forever. So Hyukjae rests easy each night, relaxed in familiar arms and content with his newfound knowledge:

 

The most important things in life are the ones that never disappear.

 

_Fin._


End file.
